


Tough Breaks

by pressforward



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Drabble, Dragonrider AU, Fade to Black, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressforward/pseuds/pressforward
Summary: Dragonrider!Kurapika AU. Kurapika breaks his arm during a risky flight, landing himself in the infirmary with a medic he may or may not have hooked up with a few weeks prior.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick and dirty drabble, because?? I am experimenting with having fun! And because fandom can always use more dragonrider fics.
> 
> Happy birthday to HxH and to Leorio!

Kurapika wakes with a start. He doesn't remember being here, a clean light room with the smells of disinfectant and medicine, and he certainly doesnt remember being out of his riding outfit. Instead of stiffened canvas and leather, he is in soft linen, and his arm _aches._

He groans, doubling over, and the curtain around his bed is yanked aside. "Up already, huh?"

Blinking at the sudden increase in light, he squints at the tall figure now standing next to him. Brown skin, rakishly short hair, a small dragon held in the crook of one arm. Kurapika searches for a name.

"Leorio," he says at last, and the man snorts and pulls a stool over to sit next to him. 

"Least nothing's wrong with your memory. Water?"

"Please."

A cup is filled, passed over to him. Kurapika reaches for it with his right hand, then stops short, wincing, and looks. It's immobilized from elbow to fingertips in a plaster cast, sling keeping it resting loosely by his heart. 

He takes the water with his left hand, drains it.

Leorio considers him, then says, "I'm surprised I haven't seen you in here more. I've seen some of the stunts you've pulled with that little Red Emperor of yours, but that's dragonriders for ya. You remember what happened?"

"Yes," he says. A simple maneuver, made risky by speed and pursuit. Judgment had tilted, wings folding in close to let her drop, catch more speed. The wind had caught him with one arm wrapped in her harness, and then his vision had gone white.

But he'd made it back.

The little dragon in Leorio's arms is trying to climb him, making a chirruping sound like the mountain sparrows in the morning. Leorio readjusts her without looking, frowning at Kurapika, clearly waiting for more. 

Kurapika holds the cup out to him, and the frown deepens to a scowl, but the cup is refilled and handed back to him. The little round dragon chick clambering up his shoulders also ruins his image.

"Well, your wingleader said she'd be in to debrief you in a bit, so you'd better rest up. I'll be around if anything comes up."

He stands, one hand supporting his small charge. One hand on the curtain, he says, "So we're off for next week, yeah?"

"I never said that."

Leorio rolls his eyes and slides the curtain closed.

\----

Melody, predictably, is mildly disappointed in him. "It's a little careless, Kurapika," she says in her quiet voice, and he lifts his left shoulder, lets it drop.

"Rookie mistake," Leorio calls from the other end of the room.

"Excuse us," Melody says serenely, then pulls the curtain all the way shut. "So what did you learn?"

"They're recruiting."

"So soon?"

"They lost a few members recently," Kurapika says, does not mention his potential involvement. The Spiders have been spinning their web across five countries, pulling choice intel and artifacts into their grasp, and he has no intention of letting them sink their fangs into a sixth. Certainly, they will have to recruit for at least one more after this last flight. 

Melody gives him a look that says she does not buy his reticence in the least. She knows enough of his personal involvement, but mercifully, lets it slide. "And how are their efforts going?"

"Not as well as they could be, but they have some likely candidates. Some of the Zoldycks, a handful of the Green Rivers. If there are any others of note, they've managed to keep it under wraps."

She is frowning, pensively nibbling at her lower lip as she does so. "Bad enough if they manage to get the Zoldycks. Can we use Killua?"

"His relationship with his family is tenuous at best. I don't think it would be effective."

"Well, see what you can find out from him," she says. "I understand you're close."

He manages not to make a face. "I suppose." Killua will make him regret asking, but if he must.

She pats his hand, and he grumbles, allows it. Smiling, she leans back to twitch the curtain open again, and stands. "But not today. Rest for a while." 

"I'm more than capable of--"

"Oh, I know. But I'd prefer it if you didn't." With that, she slides off the stool and goes to speak quietly with Leorio at the other end of the room, leaving Kurapika to his own thoughts.

He grumbles again, sinks into the pillows. His arm and shoulder still ache, and there is a twinge in his neck and pelvis, but aside from that, he is functional. He can carry out his usual duties.

When Melody leaves, Leorio comes to take her place. His small dragon trundles after him and begins chewing on his boot.

He displaces her gently. "So this is the glamorous life of a dragonrider."

"Don't you have other patients to attend to?"

"Nah, it's quiet today. All the other daredevils decided to behave themselves. You know you're off the fly list for at least two months, right?"

"Obviously."

"Sorry. Must suck."

Kurapika considers him. A third-rank medic, still new in his position but not lacking confidence, features somewhere between plain and handsome when he smiles. Most often, his expression settles itself into a one of shrewish calculation, which can make him off-putting, but Kurapika has yet to see it here in the medical hall.

They'd met briefly at a state-sponsored dinner several weeks ago, briefly argued over the punch bowl, but then found an accord of sorts for the evening. 

"Let me come home with you tonight."

Leorio just gives him a look.

"I mean it. There's nothing to eat in my apartment, and I don't look forward to getting groceries."

"Poor thing. They don't pay you enough for delivery, huh."

"I would appreciate the company."

Leorio sighs. "I'm off in another few hours. After that, we'll see."

\----

They go to Kurapika's apartment instead, at Leorio's insistence. They also stop for food and a fresh batch of groceries on the way, which Leorio carries easily by himself. 

Dinner is passable. Afterwards, Leorio takes one look at the state of his living area, and says, "Oh, no," and refuses any help. 

He is making the bed now, folding in a corner of the duvet before smoothing it down. "This is a weird second date."

"I thought it wasn't a date," Kurapika says, comfortably ensconced in the chair by the window

"It probably shouldn't be. The first time barely counts. Really more of a hook-up."

"You're here regardless."

"I'm taking pity on you," Leorio retorts. "You could be a little more grateful."

"I am grateful," Kurapika says. "Thank you for your generosity. Please come here."

"Last time I heard that, I got both hands tied to the headboard."

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

"Wouldn't dream of it. But _someone_ has a broken arm right now."

"Your care of which has been exemplary."

"You're always up to something when you start with the flattery," Leorio says, eyeing him, but he approaches regardless.

Kurapika uses his left hand to close the blinds and draw him close.

Leorio laughs at him, settles one hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing his neck. "Persistent, aren't you."

Shrugging carefully, Kurapika looks up at him, then starts to smile. "I expect you're about to find out."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea wouldn't let me go. And so, here we are.

The next morning, he wakes alone, yawning, then hissing when he lifts his right arm by instinct. Sitting up more carefully and rubbing at his jaw, he sees the note and plate on the table. Sighing, he gets up to examine them.

_'Had to go. Bedrest for you. Maybe look me up when you're feeling a little better. --Leorio'_

The plate holds an assortment of pastries from the bakery down the street, and Kurapika sighs. The idiot must have left his door unlocked to go get them; not his idea of a secure sleeping arrangement, but perhaps it's the thought that counts. 

He eats half a pastry thoughtfully, looks down at his right hand and wiggles his fingers, then winces. So any activity requiring two hands is definitely a non-option, unless absolutely necessary. Still, he can't fathom the idea of an entire day sitting idle.

He considers it, then goes to see his dragon. 

She is is easily fifteen feet from end to end, wingspan nearly twice that. A small and agile flier, with a crest of spines around her head that lie flat unless she's been provoked, with striking bronze and grey coloration like a kestrel, down to the black markings about the eyes. Perhaps they share a common ancestor.

Justice sniffs at his cast and bristles, lip curling up to show the gleam of teeth, and he settles his good hand on her snout, lets her breathe in his scent. All dragons are still half-wild, trained but not domesticated. Dragonriders then (unfairly, he thinks) have a reputation as adrenaline junkies, 'daredevils' as Leorio called them. It's less that than simply enjoying a challenge. He has too many things left to do to become careless, and Justice keeps him on his toes. 

Whuffing out a breath, she pulls back, briefly appeased, then returns to her breakfast, a large carcass of indeterminate identity. Possibly it was once a deer or antelope, perhaps a very small cow. 

"You're not going to be flying," a soft voice says behind him, and he sighs.

"So I've been told."

"So everyone who matters has been told," Melody corrects him, and he turns to meet her gaze. Small and unassuming, his flight captain is frequently underestimated, especially since many mistake her gentle tone for softness. She's flown through fire and worse to get to where she is now, and she would never have survived if had she been either craven or weak-willed.

She surveys him, then says, "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I've heard that too."

"Kurapika."

"I just—“ he starts, then stops, lifts his good shoulder, drops it, frustrated. "Feel as though there's something else I could be doing."

"I've seen you happily spend the entire day in a sunny window with several books," she says reprovingly. "Maybe try to find that Kurapika now. You'll have the time for it."

Then she adds slyly, "And if you're still looking for things to do, I'm sure that friend of yours has some ideas."

"I don't have friends."

"Hmm," Melody says, then shoos him away towards the door. "Then I suggest you go make some anywhere but here."

He bites his tongue and departs.

\----

"That's embarrassing."

"Hm?" Kurapika turns another page, and a pale young man shuts the door behind himself, locks it. 

Then he strides into the room and drops a package on the table, says, "Gon sent these and some flowers." Another parcel drops onto the table. "He says he's sorry he can't come himself, but he got sent off early this morning."

"Thank you, Killua."

"'s nothing," Killua mutters, then paces over to examine him. "So what happened? Bisky talked to Melody, and said you got tangled up in the rigging. That's an amateur move, you're supposed to be better than that."

"It was a careless mistake," Kurapika allows, then snaps his book shut. "It was a... heated situation."

Killua snorts, turns and drops into the chair across from him. "Don't tell me. You lost your head and engaged, even though that wasn't part of the mission brief at all."

Kurapika bristles. "Don't pretend like you—“

"Ah-ha. So like. Is he dead? The big guy, right?"

"Yes," Kurapika says, then picks up his book again. "I'd prefer not to speak of it."

"Good job," Killua says, with a shocking lack of insincerity, and Kurapika glances up at him sharply. "I mean it. Sure, they'll close ranks and it'll be that much harder, but they'll be scrambling a little, and that'll make'em careless." 

He gets up to begin roaming around Kurapika's apartment again, aimlessly opening and closing cabinets. Then he pulls out a tall glass, pours it full of water and bring it to the table. "Anyway, at least you're not dead." Unwrapping the flowers, he arranges the stalks in the water and adds, "Gon would be pissed."

"Thank you both for your concern."

"Aw, shut it and stop doing dumb crap."

"Is that the mouth you kiss Gon with?"

"Shut up! I tell him the same thing!"

"That's very sweet of you."

"I am going to take all this food back and eat it myself," Killua threatens, and Kurapika laughs, leans over to start pulling them out of their parcels. 

Hot pastries filled with spiced goat, a sticky set of flour dumplings dusted with peanuts, one container of spicy-smelling soup, also still hot to the touch. The other bag yields pastry-wrapped apple slices, smelling sweetly of honey, and crumbling threads of sweet fried dough over thick rich cheese and syrup.

"Please, help yourself," Kurapika says, shutting his book and setting it aside again.

"I brought it here," Killua points out, but needs no further urging. Mouth already full of half a pastry, he gets up to go find some bowls for the soup.

They eat in silence for the most part, Killua still of an age where he inhales his food rather than chews. Finishing off the last of the apple pastries, he licks his fingers, then says, "Hey, who's that guy you're seeing?"

"What guy."

"Tall guy, medic uniform, has that little hatchling who follows him around. Took you home last night, I saw you guys across the street. You know, if you didn't care about him, you would've just told me his name." Then he grins, and says sing-song, "I think you _liiiike_ him."

"He seems decent enough."

Killua snorts. "Well, yeah, hatchlings don't bond with just anyone. And even if they do, they don't let just anyone take care of one. Just tell me his name so I don't have to go find out myself. And you won't like if Gon does it."

"Mm."

"Come on."

Kurapika sighs, starts stacking the empty containers and bowls. "Leorio Paladiknight. We met at a party. And that's all."

"Mmhm."

"That's. All," Kurapika repeats, and Killua shrugs, leans back in his chair. "Don't scare him off."

"You can do that just fine on your own," Killua retorts. "It's amazing he's stuck around this long."

"Thank you for your generous estimation of me," Kurapika says drily. 

"No problem," Killua says, then stands and starts sweeping the containers back into the parcels. "Anyway, I gotta go, but you'll be okay for the rest of the day, right?"

"I've broken my arm. That hardly makes me an invalid."

Killua shrugs. "Not like you'd know when to quit anyway. Take care, okay? Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hardly necessary, but I would appreciate the company."

"Yeah yeah." Killua gives a wave as he heads to the door, bag over one arm. "Later."

He locks the door behind him with the key Kurapika provided to him several years ago, deeming him the least likely to lose it and most likely to be of assistance in the event of an unforeseen emergency. Kurapika stands and takes the bowls to the sink, looking at it in dismay as he considers how to wash them, then decides that's a problem that can wait until later.

He takes his book, then settles onto the low bench by the window. Most things can wait until later.


End file.
